


There Were Dragons in Our Time

by TheBrewer



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (hopefully) Awesome Length, But I Have an Idea, Crossover, Gen, More characters eventually, Spoilers!, not sure where this is going, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrewer/pseuds/TheBrewer
Summary: The events in Stuttgart turn out differently, and a new Avenger is born.  But can a self-chosen mute with extraordinary power keep up with a super soldier, a genius, two assassins, a god, and a monster?





	There Were Dragons in Our Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first Fanfic, so any constructive criticism would be welcome. I saw Infinity War when it first came out, and something about the ending made me think of Skyrim. There will be spoilers for most movies, but, if you haven't seen the first Avengers, well... It was released years ago. Why are you even reading Avengers fan fiction? :)  
> Joking, joking. You do you. Just don't complain when I reveal major plot points.

Erick Wyvern strolled casually along the streets of Stuttgart, enjoying a rarely peaceful night. To a casual observer, he was nothing special; he was below average height, with shoulder-length blond hair and grey-blue eyes. He was dressed well, in a black leather jacket, button-up shirt and dark jeans, but these items were not expensive. But if someone had studied him thoughtfully, they would have read a lot more than “simple pedestrian.”

He sported multiple scars, mostly on his hands, but a couple decorating his face. His eyes held the steel of a warrior born, he was fit and muscular, and he moved with confidence and balance. And a very careful observer would note the slight bulge in the small of his back where some weapon, possibly a gun or knife, was concealed by his jacket. He was danger, veiled and dormant; but perilous nonetheless.

But there were no close observers; and, better yet, no malicious observers, either. Instead, those who passed him by smiled or gave some greeting, usually along the lines of, “Guten Abend.”

Which was, of course, German for “Good evening.” To all this, Erick would simply smile and nod. Then he would gesture to his throat and shake his head. He was average-looking and possibly the most dangerous man these pedestrians would meet.

He was also as good as mute.

Now, some people spoke sign language, and with these he would carry out short conversations. But this was rare, and people would usually get this weird look and hurry on. In general, people didn't know how to relate to disabled people.

Erick enjoyed solitude anyways. So it was that that as he walked, he breathed deep and thought, _“This is the best. Silence and calm, undisturbed.”_

Then he heard the sirens drawing near. And the screams just around the corner. He sighed, then broke into a run. He rounded the corner just as the first cop car overtook him and sped towards a crowd of fleeing civilians. Walking calmly behind them was a figure dressed in green and gold, with a gold helmet with back-swept horns and a golden spear with a glowing blue stone set at the tip. As Erick watched, the robed figure casually raised his spear. The gem flashed, and a blue blast of energy shot forward and exploded underneath the cop car, sending it skidding on it's nose for several meters before crashing into a building.

“Kneel before me,” the robed figure ordered, and Erick blinked in confusion. Three figures, identical in every way to the first robed villain, had appeared and surrounded the fleeing civilians.

There was a second of silence as the frighten civilians milled about in confusion. Then the robed figure screamed impatiently, “I said KNEEL!”

There was a ringing crack as the robed figures slammed their spears against the pavement. Blue light flashed once more from the spearheads. Slowly, fifty or so citizens sank to their knees.

Erick took advantage of the distraction to slip closer to the group. He was going to do everything in his power to end this situation, but he needed to time it right. Otherwise, this would be a bloodbath. And the four identical nutjobs in green robes had him confused. Speaking of the robed guys, the first one was speaking again.

“Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation.”

_“Ah, nuts,”_ Erick thought, _“One of these.”_

But Green-Robe #1 wasn't finished.

“The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

Erick decided that the charade had gone on long enough. There was a reason he went about as a mute; even his whisper could be fatal. It was easier to remain silent than to attempt restraint. But there was one outlet for his power, one that he had honed for a very long time.

“Laas, Yah Nir!” He whispered forcefully. Instantly, every lifeform within forty meters was highlighted by a swirling red aura, visible only to Erick's eyes. But there were three notable exceptions; the three duplicate green-robes. They remained unaffected.

_“They're phantoms,”_ Erick thought. _“Good. I only have to deal with the one.”_

Then he saw something that shocked him. An older man towards the back of the group was rising slowly to his feet. In a clear voice, the man said, “Not to men like you.”

Erick's heart leapt at the man's bravery.

The green-robe smirked and said, “There are no men like me.”

“There are always men like you.” Was the elderly gentleman's reply.

The green-robe raised his spear and said, “Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example to you.”

The spear glowed. The old man drew himself up, ready to die for his convictions. Erick leapt to his feet, summoning lightning to his hands, ready to avenge.

And a colorful figure came running from the other side, soared above the kneeling citizens, and landed between the old man and his executioner, ready to protect.

The blast of energy flew faster than sight, faster than thought. Then, equally fast, it was deflected back at the murderous green-robe and knocked him to the ground. His clones disappeared in a flash of light.

The smoke drifted away to reveal a man dressed in red, white, and blue, lowering a circular shield decorated in the same colors. Now he stepped forward, saying in a conversational tone, “You know, last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above all the rest, we ended up disagreeing.”

His accent confirmed what his suit proclaimed: the shield-bearer was an American. Erick was glad his mother hailed from the same country, and he spoke English with the same fluency as German. But now the green-robe was picking himself up.

“The soldier,” He sneered, “The man out of time.”

It clicked for Erick then. The spangly shield-bearer was Captain America.

“I'm not the one who's out of time,” Captain America replied.

There was a roar, and a jet appeared from behind a skyscraper and deployed a very scary-looking minigun.

“Loki, put down the weapon and stand down,” a female voice ordered over the P. A. system.

_“Loki?”_ Erick thought, _“He's real? Well, I guess that explains the robes.”_

Loki launched a blast at the hovering jet, which was easily dodged. The demigod didn't have time for a follow-up; Captain America's shield slammed into his chest, staggering him. The civilians scattered.

Erick sighed in frustration. It was good the civilians were getting away, but he had been about to use the perfect Shout on this trumped-up cosplayer of a deity, but it was too dangerous to risk hitting innocents with. It would have to be close-quarter work. From behind his back he drew a long knife with an oval-shaped blade of white bone. In his left hand, he formed a ball of electricity. Then he shouted.

“Wuld, Nah Kest!”

He was propelled forward with the speed of a whirlwind, and transformed the movement into a strike with his dagger. He scored a cut on the demigod's arm, but it was only a flesh wound. Loki growled and swung his spear in a horizontal arc. Erick ducked under this, but had to step back.

Cap drove his shield into Loki's midsection, but received a blow from the butt of Loki's weapon in return. He crumpled and flew through the air. Loki leapt high, ready to drive his spear through Cap's chest. Erick caught him with a lightning bold, which knocked him out of the air. Then he was forced to raise a ward as Loki hurled a blast with his spear. The concussion hurled Erick into a low wall, where he lay, stunned.

Loki placed his spear on Cap's neck.

“Kneel!” He hissed.

“Not today!” Cap shouted, jumping into a high kick. Erick pulled himself to his feet, wondering when this fight was going to end.

Then, something strange happened. The jet, which had been circling the combatants, began blasting “Shoot to Thrill” by AC/DC. Then there was a quick whine, followed by twin blasts of energy. Loki flew back, and an armored figure dropped from the sky and landed in the classic superhero pose. Even Erick, as isolated from the modern world as he was, recognized Iron Man

Iron Man stood and activated an obscene amount of weapons and said, “Your move, Reindeer Games.”

Slowly, Loki's armor materialized, leaving him in only his green robes.

“Good move.”

Captain America walked up, after retrieving his shield.

“Stark.”

“Captain.”

Captain America placed a finger to his ear and said, “Bring down the Quinjet. We've got him.”

“Who's this?” Stark asked, jerking a thumb at Erick, who was re-sheathing his dagger.

“I have no idea. He just jumped in and lent a hand.”

By now, the jet had set down, and a redhead in a black body suit was approaching.

“Fury,” she was saying, “We've got Loki secured. There's also an Enhanced here.”

Erick realized she was talking with a superior. He also realized she was talking about him. After a pause, she nodded and said, “Understood. We'll be wheels up in five. Romanoff out.”

The redhead, Romanoff, turned to Erick.

“Who are you?” She asked, bluntly.

Erick pulled a notepad from his jacket and scribbled an answer on it.

_My name is Erick Wyvern. I'm the Dragonborn._


End file.
